


A Game of Circles: Season 4

by Mendeia



Series: A Game of Circles [4]
Category: NCIS: Los Angeles
Genre: But they're still spies so there are many secrets, By which I mean a tag for literally every episode, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Epistolary (sometimes), Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-03-26 17:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 19,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19010062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: Conversation is a game of circles. – Ralph Waldo EmersonIn every episode of NCIS:LA, there is an unseen moment, a hidden exchange between a spymaster and her finest student. As handler and agent, or protector and orphan, or, sometimes, defenders of one another even when the other would *really rather they not, thanks,* Hetty and Callen have a relationship worth uncovering. Updated weekly, tag for every single episode of season 4.





	1. S4E1: Endgame

The operation had been one of the most daring Callen had undertaken in a long, long time. From the instant he left police custody and except when he was meeting with Hetty, he was operating almost entirely without overwatch. Even though Sam made some attempt to stay nearby – it wasn't in Sam's nature to just leave his partner hanging in the wind.

And Hetty was even more exposed on her yacht.

They had both known that this could only work if they were alone, totally cut off from the rest of the team, effectively working blind. They wouldn't know when moves were made, or where. They wouldn't know anything the team learned from Atley, or how the Iranians were reacting. And if they failed in any way, the CIA's spy in Tehran would be exposed, and Callen would be guilty of treason.

"It has to be us," Hetty had said as she carefully outlined her plan. "It has to be Mister Callen and myself. Not only because my resignation in protest would be entirely believable to our enemies, but because this is an operation that requires Mister Callen's unique skills."

She'd met his eyes.

And he'd nodded. Yes, he understood.

"You're good at undercover," he said to the others. "All of you." And he even included Deeks. "But this isn't just our everyday undercover work. It's a whole other level."

"You're right," Sam had said – quietly, steady, already adding up the pieces in his mind. "If _anything_ goes wrong, it's career suicide, or worse."

"You'd be a traitor," Deeks had said. "For real."

"And somebody would probably execute you. Either the CIA or Iran," Kensi had added.

"Which is the _other_ reason it has to be Mister Callen and I," Hetty had said. "Outside of the people in this room, we have nothing else to lose."

After that, any argument died quickly and the plan was cobbled together with a few swift details. And with every word they spoke, Callen and Hetty both followed one another into the shadows.

Sam Hanna had done dangerous, intense undercover work, just like Kensi, just like Deeks. They had all walked on every side of the law, had pretended to be everything but themselves, had lied and killed in the name of duty. But they weren't truly spies. None of them had lived the shadow life of the Company, the life of an agent working completely alone with no backup, no extraction, and no room for error. They had never been thrown into a lake of sharks and had to swim or risk taking down their entire country with their deaths. Those shadows, though, were old friends for Hetty and Callen. That house of mirrors had been their proving grounds.

They could do this – and as the team watched them prepare, sharing cryptic lines and invisible looks, they began to understand why.

The operation was a success in the end, and had played out almost exactly how they had expected. The Iranians had the information which was helpful to the CIA, the CIA was reminding themselves why Callen and Hetty had once been part of the Company, and the only lasting damage was to Callen's body from his beating.

But when the debrief was over, Hetty sent Callen a look which he understood.

And so, long after sunset, he again crept into one of her houses.

Hetty was waiting in her study, a small interior room which was warm and cozy and also utterly impenetrable.

"Are you all right, Mister Callen?" she asked him. Not the same way she had asked it in the bullpen, looking at the swelling from his bruises and the cuts that littered his face. Then, she had expected the flippant answer. Now she wanted the true one.

"It wasn't too bad," he said, taking a seat in the chair across from her. "The worst part was the bag they put over my head smelled like it had some kind of dead raccoon in it. And maybe a foot." At her expression, he ducked his head. "Really. I've gotten worse from Sam putting on a show."

She nodded.

"And you? Are you okay?"

"Hosein Khadem didn't obey Vaziri's orders," she said. "He came for me anyway."

"You knew he would," Callen said. "As soon as we knew he was in the game. You were already the bait. You knew he would come." He leaned forward. "He didn't...?"

"He never even made it onto the yacht," she was quick to assure him. "Owen knows it was me, of course, but he'll never prove it. And I will sleep fine knowing he is, once again, dead."

Callen nodded. It was the one part of the operation he had hated. He didn't say a word about it, because the mission had to be the priority, and this mission outweighed any concerns about a specific person's safety. But still, to make it work, he had been forced to leave Hetty unprotected, vulnerable, and to set her up to be used against him. It had always been the plan to put him out there as an agent who could be turned, and to make Hetty the mechanism.

But to make it believable meant Hetty had been in constant danger, and that was before they knew Khadem was part of the equation. When Hetty told Callen who the man with Vaziri was, what their history had been, it had dumped ice into his very veins. This wasn't just a transaction anymore. This could have been revenge.

But they had persisted, because that was what they both were trained to do.

For himself, Callen would sleep far better knowing a man who had haunted Hetty was dead, too.

"Hetty," he said. "I'm sorry. About Hunter." He swallowed. "I wish I'd known."

"It was easier on you not to have to think of her as anything other than an agent and my replacement," Hetty said. "And easier on her not to reveal her connection to me and have you throw it at her. Because we both know you would have."

"When she was keeping me from following you to Prague and Romania? Yeah, I probably would have." But Callen had had a few days to think, and now he felt even worse for the woman who had been forced to let Hetty go to her death, knowing exactly what was waiting and why, and had stayed behind to keep him safe in Hetty's stead. Those days with Hunter in Hetty's chair felt very differently to him knowing now that she had been doing something he hadn't been capable of – letting Hetty go.

Hetty let out a breath.

"I didn't call you here to talk about Lauren, however."

"But you can. If you need to."

She smiled. "Thank you. It is a gracious offer, Mister Callen. And I appreciate it. But first, there is something I need to say to you."

He nodded.

"We always knew Tehran would come to you, would try to turn you to confirm the identity of Cherokee. We knew they would probably use me to do it."

"Sure."

"But I want your word, Mister Callen, that you will never do so again." She pinned him with her gaze. "You cannot trade my life for the security of this country. It is not a price I can ever allow you to pay."

He had known it was coming. He knew it from the instant he told Vaziri that Hetty's life was his price. He knew it from her expression, from the kind of cold silence that filled the space between them as he approached Vaziri at the bar.

He'd had time to think about this answer, too.

"I can't."

Her eyebrows rose.

"Hetty, you're asking me to be willing to let you die, and I can't promise you I can ever do that. I _can't_ promise that." He looked at his hands. "I can promise I would do everything in my power to make it right. I can promise that I would die to protect agents in the field, to keep them from being compromised, to safeguard this nation. I can promise I would fight to my last breath."

When he looked up, he couldn't stop what was in his eyes.

"But I can't promise you that I would let them kill you. I can't and I won't."

She was clearly taken aback, but she recovered quickly. "That was not our deal, Mister Callen."

"No. Our deal was that we could work together as long as we could still do our jobs." He shook his head. "I'm sorry if this means I can't live up to it anymore."

"Romania changed more than I thought, didn't it?" she asked softly.

"Yeah. It did."

"Director Vance told me you'd resigned, and Mister Hanna and Miss Blye with you. I suppose I ought to have realized." She sighed. "Some roads should never have been taken, Mister Callen. Some bridges never burned."

"Well," and he couldn't tell if he was angry or something else entirely, "they're burned now. There's no going back. And if it happened, I would...I would do _anything_ to make it right. But I _cannot_ let you trade your life. For anything. Not while I'm alive."

He looked up at her and it was a small, lonely boy in his eyes.

"Please don't ask me to."

Hetty shook her head. "You are being foolish, sentimental, and bordering on insubordinate, Mister Callen. And if you proceed with this plan, you may find yourself labeled a traitor once again, but in truth."

"I know." And he wanted to look away, but didn't.

"As your Operations Manager, I cannot accept this. I must object most strongly, and I warn you that I will take steps as I see fit to prevent you ever from making such an egregious mistake as to put the safety of any one person over the security of this nation."

But before he could even react, she reached across the space between them and caught his hands in her own.

"But given that you are a person who has my complete and unquestioning trust, as a person who I...have known for so very long...as a person who is my own family...I understand."

He squeezed her hands. "Hetty…"

"I did, after all, deliver myself into the hands of the Comescus. And if they hadn't been so blinded by their vendetta against you, they could have made other use of me." She made a wan smile. "I can hardly blame you for something which I have already been willing to do."

She rose from her chair without releasing his hands and closed the distance between them. She only let go when she could instead put her arms around her ridiculous, loyal, oddly gentle boy. He leaned his forehead into her shoulder.

"We're all right, Mister Callen. And, for what it's worth, I am...I am very grateful we could make something positive from losing Mike and Lauren. You were willing to shoulder my burden for me, and that is a truly princely gift."

"I wish I could have saved them."

She could only nod.

"Hetty?"

She eased back, leaving her hands on his broad shoulders.

"Yes, Mister Callen?"

"Thank you."

"What for?"

He closed his eyes. She watched as the last walls erected around his heart crumbled down for that moment. All agents broke down after intense assignments – and finally his turn had come.

"For everything."

She smiled at him and felt her own walls falling away. "Thank _you_ , Mister Callen."

"What for?"

"Everything else."


	2. S4E2: Recruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> Four chapters this week means we'll end in the middle of a two-parter, but that's just how the timing works, I guess.
> 
> That said, I'm thinking about decreasing the frequency of chapters and instead going into next year. For 8 years I've tried to have a weekly update, which means writing enough stuff in the year before to post it. This year has been very rough, with illness, moving, and mental health issues making my production almost nil. So, after season 4, it's possible I'll slow down. Sorry if that comes as a disappointment. In the meantime, though, the tags continue!
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen was already sleeping very lightly, so it took nothing more than someone in the seat in front of him shifting to wake him; once up, he immediately spotted the activated camera on his tablet. Just as quickly, he figured out who would have turned it on in the middle of the flight. The cameras on the Ops side weren't on, so he couldn't see her in return, but he gave a little wave anyway.

It hadn't been so long ago that Hetty had been worried about him and Sam in Sudan, and now they were heading back from Dubai after a mission that could have gone disastrously wrong. Even if nobody got hurt, there was no guarantee they wouldn't end up in trouble with the local authorities, and causing international incidents was a quick way to lose one's career, or at least one's pay.

G knew she hadn't really wanted them to go, but there was no choice if they wanted to save the life of at least one American and shut down the terrorist cell behind recruiting the rest. And given that they had actually saved more than one, he felt it had been well worth the risk.

But Hetty worried, because that's what she did when her team was somewhere she couldn't easily reach them.

Beside him, Kensi moved in her sleep, leaning on his shoulder a bit. Callen took the chance to glance over to where Deeks and Sam were completely out – Deeks actually curled up on Sam's shoulder, practically in his lap.

Callen grinned and turned his attention back to the camera.

It was awkward to sign with his left hand, but he'd practiced it enough times that he could do it without too much difficulty. ASL was much harder to do one-handed than the little hand-signals he and his team had built together – most of which had come out of a language of signs Hetty had taught him herself.

He signed, "Camera. Picture." Then he spelled out Sam's name. As in: Please take a picture of Sam sleeping for me.

Then he signed, "Situation normal. Status green."

Then, with a grin, he finger-spelled the words "Tea gift."

The tablet lit up as the camera in Ops connected. Hetty was sitting to one side, sipping some tea of her own and smiling. Otherwise, the room was deserted. Given the hour, though, G wouldn't have expected anyone to still be there.

Anyone but Hetty, watching her agents come home.

Without so much as sloshing her tea, she signed "Thank you" to him. Then she looked at Kensi, back at Callen, and signed "Sleep." A raised eyebrow made it a question.

As in: Shouldn't you be sleeping as well?

He couldn't shrug without dislodging Kensi, so he waved his hand in a "Maybe" gesture.

She gave him a look that needed no sign language at all for translation.

Hetty always knew when he was pushing himself. A good soldier sleeps whenever they can, but a team leader never sleeps when the team is resting so there's always someone on watch. His team was asleep, so now that Callen was awake, he would stay awake. Even if there was virtually no chance of a threat on the plane, it was still his responsibility.

Hetty set down her teacup and regarded him. Then she moved her hands in a gesture which had been amongst the earliest she had ever shown him.

"I will guard you. You are safe."

He was a grown man, but those words had the same impact on him now that they always had.

He nodded and signed, "Thank you."

This time when he closed his eyes, he let himself fall completely asleep, secure in the knowledge that his own team leader was watching out for them now.


	3. S4E3: The Fifth Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that I make reference here to some information that comes out towards the end of this season – episode 22. Because of course Hetty knows more than she's saying, and thus far, she's kept Callen in the dark. But not for long…
> 
> Enjoy!

"What's going to happen to Astrid?"

Hetty wasn't surprised when Callen melted out of the shadows outside the boathouse. She would have invited him in to join the card game except that Astrid seemed to be comfortable with just the three of them and the girl had been through enough without needing a stressful social interaction at the end of the day.

"Tonight, she'll stay here with Miss Blye," Hetty said, setting off down the pier. "In the morning, I will arrange for her to meet some prospective foster parents to take care of her while her father is in custody."

He fell into step beside her. "So you're not going to…?"

"No." Hetty shook her head. "Astrid needs a little more specialized attention than I can spare at this moment. Though I will be keeping an eye on her."

"Another Hetty Lange kid, then?"

Hetty looked up at him, carefully controlling her expression. "Only if that's how she chooses it to be. She's exceptionally bright, and very direct in conversation, which is a nice change of pace from the shadow games we all play. As a technical analyst or an intelligence analyst, she would be superb. But that is a decision for later, when she's ready."

"You like her."

Hetty did not permit the slight relief she felt show on her face. Callen was moving away from the more dangerous line of conversation, and she must not give him reason to return to it.

"Of course I do. So does Kensi."

"How is it that you can just...make space for us all? You give us something to hold onto, and you find a way to keep us from getting lost so we can have a future. Me, Lauren Hunter, now Astrid..." He shook his head. "I can barely manage a cat who doesn't even live in my house."

"The secret," she said, "isn't in making space, as you say. It's in recognizing the potential in everyone, and in providing that potential a place to grow. Like the roses in my garden. They choose their shape and color, Mister Callen. I just ensure they have water and sunlight and protect them from weeds and rabbits."

He smiled. "I think that's the first time anybody's ever compared me to a rose."

"By any other name," she said, "you would still be G Callen."

"Do you think we'll ever find the rest of it?" he asked. It was a doubt he rarely voiced, and only times like now when it was dark and he could hide his uncertainty from her.

Or he could try. It wasn't as if he succeeded, after all.

"In my experience, the truth can be very elusive. However, the diligent will always find their way back to it in the end." She looked up at him and gave him a smile. "You are one of the most stubborn and dogged agents I've ever known, Mister Callen. If there's anyone with the patience, focus, and conviction to ferret out this truth, it will be you."

He let out a breath that sighed across the water. "Thanks, Hetty."

"Now." They had reached the parking lot where they were putting some of the cars this week – they had to rotate to keep the boathouse from being made obvious to anyone watching their movements. "Cards with Astrid and Miss Blye is entertaining, but it lacks something in the cutthroat nature of how such games should truly be played. Would you like to try your hand against me for a few rounds of blackjack?"

Callen laughed. "Sure I'll play, but I'm not betting against you, Hetty. That never ends well."

"Pity."


	4. S4E4: Dead Body Politic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by a throw-away line about Hetty in Nicaragua. "Well, I ruled Nicaragua once for 72 hours. Don't ask."
> 
> But he's Callen. So…
> 
> Enjoy!

The debate had just ended, and Hetty was sitting back with her scotch, considering. The president had answered well, as had his opponent, but she wasn't overly pleased with the format or the moderation. If she was supposed to be helping the moderator, he needed to damn well listen to her!

Suddenly her laptop pinged.

Raising an eyebrow, Hetty opened it. The laptop shouldn't come out of sleep mode for something as simple as an email or a standard alert. Only a more serious change in status should wake it while shut.

A warning had popped up.

"Secure File Access Attempt."

Hetty opened the alert to check the details. If it was serious, she could always recall Eric; however, she was hoping she could let the young man have an evening for once. Of the entire team, Mister Beale worked almost as many hours as Hetty, simply due to the nature of his job. Even her agents got more downtime between cases – it was Eric Beale and sometimes Nell who had to be on duty at all times to watch for developing situations.

She recognized the file extension at once and sighed.

It was a good attempt – she would give him that. Though how Mister Callen had gotten hold of Owen's credentials, she decided she didn't want to know.

Hetty opened the system and added a new password to the file, one that was not included in Owen's access levels.

Then she waited.

"Secure File Access Attempt."

Well, he was nothing if not persistent. With the NCIS version of the file under lockdown, he had gone to the CIA side. Clever, but insufficient. Hetty didn't need to make any adjustments this time – the CIA files were protected to the point of impenetrability to anyone other than Eric Beale.

However…

Feeling a touch of impishness, Hetty rapidly created a new file on an NSA server and gave it a similar enough name and profile to appear in a search. The cross-reference of her name and "Nicaragua" had brought Callen as far as the NCIS and CIA versions – she knew him well enough to know that he would begin trying her aliases next.

"Sylvia Martin" would bring him here in moments.

As much as Hetty was teased about computers making her nervous, she was certainly more than capable with them or she would have been out of the game a decade before. She had hidden her own files hundreds of times, and had watched Eric Beale more closely than he ever realized. After all that, creating a false file and erecting some sizeable but relatively rudimentary protections was no more difficult than requisitioning office equipment.

Actually, the requisitions were more complicated – they required budgeting.

She finished the file and backdated it just a few moments before the alert popped up.

"Secure File Accessed."

Hetty smirked.

A text chimed on her phone. "Well played. I concede – for now."

Hetty shut her laptop and sat back with her scotch, mentally estimating how long "for now" meant to Callen this time.

It would be a month later that she would receive an email from a tech over at the NSA, inquiring into the file and wondering what value there was to a blank report regarding an incident in Nicaragua containing only one line: "I thought I told you not to ask." Especially since attempts to get at similar information had been regularly flagged and thwarted throughout the system for the past month.

Hetty responded that she had arranged a training exercise with a few of her own people to assist the NSA in catching internal insecurities. And after one call to a contact, no one questioned when such an initiative had been assigned or approved.

Though she did order Callen to stop trying to hack the NSA. As useful as it was to keep them from being vulnerable to outside threats, she certainly didn't want them closing the loopholes she and Mister Beale regularly exploited, after all.


	5. S4E5: Out of the Past, Part 1

Nell ran for the directory to start pulling phone numbers. Everyone else in Ops stood staring at the map, the circles.

The bombs.

The fear in Callen was unfamiliar. This wasn't the coiling anxiety that happened when one of his team went undercover and was in trouble. It wasn't the burning dread that he might be too late to save an innocent life. It wasn't the sad, deep suspicion that he might never find out the rest of his own history. It wasn't the pervasive worry that someday he would fail and let his country or his team that was his family down.

This fear was glacial, immense, suffocating. It was a frozen stillness, all breath and warmth stolen and turned to stone. He felt like the very air molecules in his lungs were motionless, that if he tried to move, even to twitch, that he would shatter where he stood.

Nuclear bombs in Russian hands in the United States. For _decades_.

There was a class everyone who worked for the CIA had to take at Langley. A class which was specifically designed to make agents and analysts understand the danger of failure. Every horrific picture, video, audio file – literally anything which could demonstrate the results of a biological or chemical attack was on the syllabus. For days, agents and analysts were subjected to every atrocity for which there was documentation, just to drive home the point.

_This is what we give our lives to prevent._

In a basement only a handful of miles away was a bomb that could have obliterated Los Angeles in a second. Everything gone. Everyone.

The sheer weight of that threat seemed like it should _crush_ him.

G managed to catch Sam's eyes and saw in him the same terror. This wasn't jihadists with a rocket launcher. This wasn't a cartel with AKs. This was a level of destruction, the very edge of annihilation, which was orders of magnitude beyond anything they'd ever faced – except once. The Empty Quiver situation.

This was _so much worse_.

Callen was trapped, frozen, reeling. He could think only because he couldn't stop thinking. But his very body was locked up in a dread that went straight to the soul.

Somehow, he dragged his gaze to Hetty.

Hetty regarded him with a look that made his knees ache just seeing it. Because this wasn't a new weight for Hetty. It was an old one. This was the terror she had lived with for decades in the Cold War. This was what she had been willing to give her life to prevent a thousand times over for most of her career.

G suddenly understood how Pierce felt, that his wife had succumbed to Alzheimer's because of the madness of the weight of the secret they kept. He couldn't honestly say that his own mind wouldn't have crumbled under the weight of it just as easily.

But Hetty had lived with this threat, had been on missions which could have induced nuclear war – and she had stood firm.

As she was standing firm now.

The weight of all those millions of lives, of the very nation, landed on her shoulders. Literally countless innocent souls, eight cities of civilians, all braced across her narrow frame. And Hetty was still standing.

Callen heaved in a breath.

He could do this.

He _had_ to do this.

Because he couldn't, wouldn't, let Hetty carry this weight alone.

Callen squared his shoulders and locked his jaw. The country was in danger, a danger more acute than any he had ever personally witnessed. Those lives were hanging in the balance. And if he knew that bladed ferocity in Hetty, he knew she wouldn't rest until she saw that danger removed.

And he was going to stand with her to the end.

Hetty gave him a tiny nod, understanding every single thing that had overwhelmed his mind and the paralyzing fear that held him. The tiniest of expressions crossed her face, but he could read it all the same.

_Be ready, Mister Callen. We are needed._


	6. S4E6: Rude Awakenings, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about being a day late. Yesterday got weird and ended with a trip to the doctor and much giving of blood. No worries – I'm fine. It was just not the most fun experience.
> 
> Anyway, back to the oneshots!
> 
> Enjoy!

G was badly unsettled.

The whole case hadn't gone the way it should have. There were three nuclear bombs within the borders of the US unaccounted for, and Sidorov had gotten away as well. Sam's wife was back in the line of fire, and it was tearing Sam apart. And he'd had to tell Sam's secret to Kensi and Deeks.

It wasn't that G thought they didn't deserve to know – but it was Sam's story to tell, not his. If Sam had wanted Kensi and Deeks to know about Michelle, he'd have said something when he came to an agreement with Granger. But he hadn't. And now Callen had done it for him, without his permission, and he didn't really know for sure if Sam would be okay with that.

The case was over without being closed. The danger remained, the threat to innocent people was as bad as ever, to say nothing of Michelle, and there were no more moves they could make.

It was worse than an itch under his skin. It was a gnawing uneasiness.

Callen knew better than most what toll their job took, what it might someday cost them. He'd lost his own family because his mother had been an agent. He knew that safety in their line of work was the most dangerous illusion of all. And now it was broken. None of them were safe. Those nuclear bombs could be anywhere, could be used for anything.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Nor was there anything he could do about Sam.

If Callen was honest with himself, he didn't entirely understand Sam's relationship with his wife. But then, it was very, very hard for G to love people at all, let alone so intensely. He could count on less than two hands the number of people in the world he truly, truly loved. But even then he couldn't imagine loving them as much as Sam loved his wife. G loved the people who were his family, his team, his partners. He loved them so much he would die for any of them without hesitation.

He could not imagine loving someone else that much, and then loving them romantically too.

From the instant Quinn came into play with Sidorov, Callen would have done anything to protect Sam and Michelle. He didn't want Michelle hurt, didn't want Sam put through this, didn't want to see that precious love they shared endangered. He would have done anything to help them, to shield them, if there had been any way at all.

Maybe he wouldn't have tried drowning a CIA agent – that might just have been Sam – but he certainly understood the impulse.

But there was nothing he could do for them now. He would guard them if he could, and he would support them, and he would break any rule necessary to keep them safe. But he couldn't save them from their own uncertainty, from the threat that now would wind its way into dinnertime and family time. He couldn't take away the heavy reality that had landed in their lives.

Just as he couldn't take the threat of three nuclear bombs out of the country.

He drove for more than an hour, wandering LA in his car, looking for something to drain the prickly energy of a mission that was stalled. He didn't want a beer, he didn't want to train in the gym – he just wanted something to be right.

He was on a highway when he spotted an exit ramp which he followed before he could really come up with a good reason not to. A few twists and turns later and he was pulling up outside one of Hetty's houses. She wasn't in it – she'd been here the night before so it would be vacant now.

Suddenly he was seized with the need to make sure it was secure anyway. So he left his car a block away and checked the perimeter. Then he checked the alarm system. Then he walked the interior. It was quiet and still, nothing out of place and nothing amiss. But it helped.

Once that house was completely cleared, he drove to the next to do the same thing. And the next. He even made a stop at one of her storage units. Methodically, one at a time, he prowled the places Hetty lived. All but one – the one where she was staying tonight.

Instead of going there, he drove to Sam's house and walked their perimeter. Now it was well past midnight and he didn't want to disturb them, so he only checked the outside. Then he drove to Kensi's, to Deeks's, to Eric's, to Nell's, and checked them as well.

Finally his chest felt like some of the weight was off it and he could breathe again.

He was just getting back into his car after Nell's when his phone went off. It was Hetty, of course.

"If you are finished, I'm starting the tea."

He shook his head. He didn't need to ask how she had known what he was doing.

Another text arrived.

"Also, Mister Hanna says if you wanted to go there for the night, he would understand, though he doesn't require your presence. Miss Blye would rather you didn't wake her up again, however."

He replied, "What about the others?"

"Mister Deeks has not texted me yet. Eric says you missed one of his cameras."

He let out a breath. It was easier than the last one had been.

His phone went off again.

"Now, either come here and have some tea or go to sleep on Mister Hanna's couch, but stop lurking outside of Nell's. She has just texted to ask me about my feelings regarding your kneecaps."

"Would Nell really shoot me?" he typed back.

"Leave or you will find out."

Callen found he could almost laugh. He turned the car on and headed for Hetty's, waving at Nell's darkened windows as he went.

The world was not what it had been, but the most important things in it were safe.

That was all that mattered right now.


	7. S4E7: Skin Deep

Callen was glad to know Lance was going to be okay, that he had someone to be there for him. Hetty was giving him that knowing look, reading his feelings off his face, probably.

It wasn't as if he was trying to hide them this time.

But he cleared his throat and decided to change the subject.

"Do you think we'll all have those implants someday? Become human intelligence gathering equipment?"

"If we live long enough," she said, "there's no reason not to expect it. It's not dissimilar from wearing a wire, which has been standard since the early days of the game."

"Yeah, but...this is a little different."

"Certainly." She gave him a look. "An implant would mean I could track my agents at all times without having to resort to checking phones and traffic cameras."

He smiled. "Would you really chip me like a dog, Hetty?"

She folded her hands primly. "What _exactly_ makes you think I haven't already, Mister Callen?"

"Seriously?"

"No. If I had, we would have had a much easier time following your movements when your cover identity was exposed a few years ago." But there was a gleam in her eye. "Incidents like that make such technology a very attractive possibility in some ways."

"Yeah, but…" He stopped. He _could_ point out all the myriad ways that could go badly, the ways the technology could be turned on innocent people, just like with the tracking spray they had used on Abdul Habaza which turned up on regular American citizens throughout LA. He _could_ point out that sometimes the whole point of being undercover was to not be found by anyone, even the good guys. He _could_ point out that, more than once, they had needed him to play the game against members of his own government.

He didn't. Instead, he said, "I'm sure Deeks would still get you a collar with a bell if you wanted us to be able to find you at all times."

She glared at him. "We are talking about an implant for _you_ , not _me_ , Mister Callen."

"Yeah, but _I'm_ not the one who went to Prague without telling anyone." And he said it with a grin, teasingly, and it caused him no pain.

"I'll make you a deal, then. Neither of us gets an implant." She raised a hand. "But I make no promises about your partner or Mister Deeks."

"Agreed. Just let me be the one to chip Deeks when it comes to it."

"If he irritates me any further with his appalling food choices, I'll hold him down myself."


	8. S4E8: Collateral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest. This is one of my favorites. Everything that happens after Hetty disappears from the office is just gold. And if you watch that climactic fight scene carefully, well, the relationship between them is just RIGHT THERE. It's perfect.
> 
> Enjoy!

On the drive back from the Nogales location, Owen leaned over to Hetty in the back of the car being driven by one of Farmer's agents.

"Agent Callen is a little zealous in his overprotectiveness, isn't he?" he asked.

Hetty gave him a sideways look. "All my agents are good at what they do. It's no surprise that they tracked us down when we disappeared."

"Not us, Henrietta. _You_."

She shrugged. "In the end, I trust Mister Callen's instincts. He believed there was more to this case than we were telling him, and he was correct. He was concerned that there was a personal connection to me, and there was. And, ultimately, if he hadn't brought his team here, there is no guarantee we could have fought them off on our own."

"That's a long way of not answering me," Granger said.

"After today, I'm not sure I owe you any more explanation than that."

And she turned away from him for the rest of the ride. She could feel his attention on her, was aware of his mixed feelings about the whole situation. She wasn't the only one who had seen a ghost in the woman who raised a gun to Callen after the SUV had crashed, after all. They were both reliving that particular mission, the bomb detonated, the innocent life taken alongside the guilty to spare the lives of hundreds of others.

Something Hetty knew well from her time working with Owen Granger was that sometimes he fixated on the personal aspects of cases to make sure his own head was clear.

But still, she made a mental note to ensure that Owen's security clearances as Assistant Director didn't include certain information about her own past or G Callen's. Though she could probably get Owen to overlook their history, she would have to burn some resources of her own to do it, and that was best saved for a last resort.

Owen was tricky. Some days he was a by-the-book bureaucrat who would take Agent Callen out from under from Hetty's supervision the instant he learned she had a personal connection to him beyond what he already suspected. Other days, he would burn the book in defense of the team remaining as it was. The trouble was there was no telling what sort of man he would choose to be, or when.

So it was easier for everyone if he simply didn't have the information to use at all.

But she would have to remind Callen to be more careful. That single-minded protectiveness was endearing, but it could give away the game to someone like Granger who knew enough about Hetty to make some too-smart guesses. It wouldn't have been so obvious if he hadn't come crashing into Nogales yelling for her, but he had.

On the other hand, he was a good agent whose boss had gone missing, so it was easy enough to explain it that way.

She wouldn't soon forget, however, that when the shooting began and everyone dove for cover, Callen dove to shield her instead. In the center of the floor, without even some dubious furniture to obscure his position, totally exposed to anyone with an angle through the window, he had covered her and never moved.

Of course, she could have gotten to cover of her own without him pinning her down, but that wasn't where his mind was at the time.

Hetty was starting to think that she would never again be able to approach even the scent of danger without G Callen placing himself in the way.

It was noble, and totally impractical.

They stopped at the hospital to check on Farmer before returning to the office, so they arrived after the others were already up in Ops receiving the briefing from what Granger and Hetty had sent back to Eric by way of explanation.

She waited until they were leaving and retrieved the walnut from her desk, carrying it to meet Callen on the stairs.

"Mister Callen." She tossed him the walnut. "I'm allergic to nuts."

It was a reminder that, yes, she had intended for him to follow this clue, but that he needed to do so carefully, paying particular attention to what knowledge of her he allowed others to see he possessed. It was thanks for coming after her, praise for following the trail she led, gratitude for his unyielding loyalty, and an admonition to be careful about it.

He grinned at her.

_Message understood._

She nodded and turned back to her office. Owen would be by soon enough, thoughts filled with the old days and the horrors they held. And she would drink him senseless while so carefully obscuring any too-clever thoughts he might have about why Mister Callen was so very protective even to the point of insubordination.

And when Owen was distracted, mellowed, and vulnerable, she would very carefully lay the pieces to start bringing Owen into this team where he would be less of a threat. If she could bind him to these agents as they were bound to each other, he would be less likely to betray them or separate them.

Not completely unlikely – he would always be Owen.

But she would make it far more costly for him to move against her when she held his heart again.


	9. S4E9: The Gold Standard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but at least it's not Tuesday (at least where I am)!
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen was sitting at his desk, not doing paperwork because, once again, he had managed to be about ten minutes too late to do it before Sam finished it all. Hetty walked up and cleared her throat.

"Need something?" he asked, leaving off his calculations for how much paperwork he could let build up before Sam would take it over once again – having a partner with such a keen sense of personal responsibility definitely had its benefits.

"I noticed that the amount of tungsten we turned over as evidence didn't quite match the amount we retrieved from the robbery," she said without preamble.

He shrugged. "We didn't actually count all the bars. We just eyeballed it. Could have been off by a few."

" _You_ didn't count them, no. But an evidence intake officer did," she said.

"Nell." Callen sighed. "Come on, Hetty. It was just one bar."

"And normally I would not bother with it in the slightest. However, all those bars were stamped with official US inscriptions to make them appear legitimate." She tipped her head at him. "What did you use it for?"

He held up his hands. "I promise you, nobody will ever recognize it. The US gold reserves are as safe as ever."

"Mister Callen, I'm waiting for an explanation." She didn't say it harshly, but there was a firmness in her voice which brokered no room for argument.

Callen glanced around to make sure no one was listening. The bullpen was clear, and no one was anywhere nearby – they were all in the gym watching the spectacle. Even so, he spoke without looking directly at Hetty, keeping an eye out for when Sam would get back from his weekly appointed duty of tutoring Deeks in hand-to-hand combat.

Deeks called it "tormenting, not tutoring" and he was probably not wrong.

"They don't make weighted bowls the right size."

"I beg your pardon."

"They don't make weighted bowls the right size," he repeated. "And the water dish kept tipping over every time it was windy. And there's a lot of wind in LA, if you hadn't noticed."

Hetty blinked. "Are you telling me you pilfered a piece of evidence for your _cat_?"

"It's not my cat," he said, and he knew he said it too fast, but he couldn't un-say it now. "It just eats at my house sometimes. And sleeps in my backyard. And it brings me what it kills a couple times a week. I found a half a seagull on the back steps last Tuesday."

Hetty was smiling that irritating smile she got when she was smug and pleased and somehow he had fallen into one of her traps and he still couldn't tell what it was or how he got there.

"A cat only brings such treats to a person it likes very much," she said. "Either that or Gouda thinks you are a terrible hunter yourself and he is trying to take care of you."

"Well, anyway." He shrugged. "The dishes weren't heavy enough. So I made him some better bowls. That's all."

" _You_ smelted tungsten?"

He leaned back and smiled. "I'm a man of many talents."

"I didn't realize that metallurgy was amongst them," she returned. Then she shook her head and sighed. "Very well. As long as the evidence is no longer evidence, and whatever means you employed in your crafting project cannot be traced back to this incident, I will let it slide."

He raised an eyebrow. _Of course_ he had been careful – more careful than probably was warranted even given the whole threat-to-the-economy thing from the case. But Callen would be a poor spy if he couldn't trick his way into a factory and make use of it under the eyes of a dozen people in head-to-toe safety gear. Hell, he could have bought the factory and turned it into a glass-blowing operation and nobody would have noticed, commented on it, or realized he had ever been there at all.

Hetty raised a hand at his expression. "I see. I shouldn't have doubted you." She turned to go. "My regards to Gouda, Mister Callen. Do thank him for me."

"For what?"

"Keeping an eye on you," she said over her shoulder. "It truly is a full-time job."


	10. S4E10: Free Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoy this episode. Partially because of Hetty's arrival at the last moment, and partially seeing the team embedded with the Navy – they don't get much exposure to the Naval part of NCIS!
> 
> Enjoy!

"You were Sam's Christmas miracle," Callen said, sitting at the small table beside Hetty.

She smiled at him, already on her second glass of eggnog and looking as comfortable in the flight suit as she ever did in her usual attire.

"It was the least I could do. When Mister Beale informed me that you all would be here until after Christmas, and especially with everything we are asking of Mister Hanna's family, it was a simple choice."

"Yeah, but how many favors did it take to pull an F18 the day before Christmas?" he asked.

"Not enough to outweigh the good of a man at home with his wife and children on Christmas morning," she said. She glanced to where Deeks was trying to either make friends or pick a fight with some of the Marines, Kensi apparently making some attempt to keep the bloodshed to a minimum. "I am sorry that the rest of your holiday plans have been ruined, however."

"Don't sweat it," Callen said. "Kensi and Deeks – and Kensi's mom, that is still so weird – will have their ski trip when we get back. Sam's the one who really needed it to be _on_ Christmas."

"What about you, Mister Callen?" she asked.

G tipped his head. "I didn't really have any plans apart from crashing your place for dinner and then crashing Sam's for presents in the morning."

"It is becoming something of a tradition, isn't it?"

"Yeah." And it wasn't the eggnog that was warming his stomach at that thought. "But, anyway, I'll see them all when we get back. Knowing Sam and Michelle, they'll have us over for brunch anyway and it'll be just like Christmas but two days late and with a certain kid I could name actually having slept the night before."

Hetty chuckled. "I believe you may be right." She held out her glass. "Then here is to families, wherever we find them."

"To family," he said, touching his glass to hers, "and to the family that's right here with me."

The smile in Hetty's eyes went warmer.

"And that, Mister Callen, is why spending Christmas here and not in Macao is no great burden at all."

He smirked at her. "Getting sentimental, Hetty?"

"About you? Oftener than you realize, dear. Oftener than you realize."

And in the end, that Christmas afloat was no less as fulfilling than any Callen had ever spent – because he still spent it with some of the people who meant everything to him. And the rest of them did greet him with brunch and presents at the Hanna home when they returned to LA.

Either way, G felt he truly was 'home for Christmas.'


	11. S4E11: Drive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context, in the middle of this episode with the car theft ring and Kensi going undercover with Esposito as a cousin, reference is made in a discussion between Hetty and Granger to a questionable undercover assignment Granger has given to Deeks against Hetty's will and unbeknownst to anyone else (which comes to a head in a later episode).
> 
> Enjoy!

Since Kensi apparently really was going to dinner with someone other than Deeks, the rest of the group took Deeks to dinner for his birthday instead. Deeks pouted like a puppy until Hetty gave him carte blanche to order anything he wanted. It would be an expensive gift, given the way the guy could eat, but at least he was smiling again.

Then Callen ever-so-casually initiated a discussion about surfing between Deeks and Eric, poked Nell to provide them with some physics, and let them run. Those three could out-talk any politician ever born when on a favorite subject, and it left Callen, Sam, and Hetty to sit back and smile.

Callen's phone pinged at one point, and he discreetly shared the text from Kensi with Sam and Hetty.

"Okay, this was a bad call. Esposito's MOM is here. Asking about grandchildren. Somebody come shoot me."

Sam snorted into his wine and had to cover it before Deeks noticed. He shot his partner a look and excused himself from the table, saying he had to run out for a short while but he would be back and he would bring Deeks a gift.

Hetty and Callen waggled eyebrows at one another, and both privately hoped Sam wasn't going to set something up which could make Kensi any more uncomfortable than she already was. It was Sam, though, so chances were good he wouldn't do anything awful.

That was probably why he offered to go. He could rescue Kensi and pick up something nice for Deeks.

Callen hoped, anyway.

He leaned back in his seat, now watching Eric and Deeks apparently compete for most outlandish surfing story. Nell was obliged to duck more than once as their exuberant exchanges resulted in a lot of waving arms.

"Peking," Hetty said softly.

Callen looked at her in surprise.

She smiled.

And he remembered. He had asked her once, in a coded way, of course, why she chose Deeks for their team. And her answer had been that they needed him, and, he realized now, that Deeks needed them as well. That, together, they could accomplish more than they ever would have if he hadn't joined the team.

"Beijing," he answered, nodding. "You were right."

"Of course I was." She shot him a tiny smile. "You should know better than to doubt me by now, Mister Callen."

He huffed a laugh. "I do know better. But old habits die hard."

"The habit of doubting that you don't know everything?"

He made sure Deeks was talking and Nell and Eric were only listening to him. "Of trusting new people."

"Ah." She nodded. "Of course. But I'm glad you agree that he belongs here."

"He does." A prickle ran up his spine and G looked at her more closely. There was an angle to her shoulders that set off warning bells in his head. "Should I be worried?"

"Not yet."

Callen turned his eyes back to Deeks. There _was_ something, even if he couldn't quite put words to it. Something else. Something…

"Hetty, what – ?" he began.

She gestured and he fell silent. She let out a breath. "It's not my doing, Mister Callen. Nor my idea."

"Granger." Callen didn't growl, and he kept his body language neutral, just in case the other three decided to notice.

"Just keep an eye on Mister Deeks, please. He is one of ours – and he may need our help."

Callen nodded. "We'll be there." He fixed his eyes on Deeks and let the promise grow in his heart the way all his promises did. "No matter what."

For an instant, Callen thought Deeks maybe was aware of their exchange after all, because he gave a quirk of a smile entirely wrong for what Nell and Eric were saying. But it was gone as quickly as it had been, and Deeks was back into surfing stories as if nothing had happened.

G knew it had.

When Sam arrived twenty minutes later with Kensi in tow, a huge take-out order of baked ice cream (and how he got it into the restaurant, Callen had no idea, but it probably had to do with Kensi venting her feelings in one terrifying glare if the way the waiters avoided her was any indication), and a gift card to the detective's favorite fish taco place in the city, Deeks was all smiles and celebration.

But Callen's festive mood was gone.


	12. S4E12: Paper Soldiers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context, this is the episode with the guy working in the ME's office who is stealing body parts by faking papers that state the soldiers want their remains donated – and they end up in a funeral home chasing down both ends of the operation. Most notably, Hetty and Nate go undercover as mother and son to distract the funeral home's director, and Callen and Sam come in later to cause trouble. And then Sam calls Hetty "Shorty." And her face is AMAZING.
> 
> But it's also the one where Nate has to interrogate the ME, who he is dating, and he really questions himself and the job. Hetty holds him together at a key point with a chess metaphor.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nate was upstairs in one of the little corners where you could see most of the office without being readily visible in return. Callen, of course, found him within seconds.

"Hetty said you earned this," he said, holding out the chess set.

Nate gave a rueful laugh, taking the offering reluctantly. "I guess I played my role as a pawn okay."

"What's wrong with being a pawn?" Callen asked, leaning on the wall beside him.

"Nothing. I mean, not really. Except how you're basically cannon-fodder."

"Is that really what you think?" G shook his head. "It's true that pawns aren't the strongest pieces in the game, but they have a use which can be necessary for winning."

"Mowing down other pawns?"

"Have you even _played_ chess?"

Nate shrugged. "I know the basics, but that's about it."

Callen sighed. "Well, if a pawn gets all the way to the other end of the board, it becomes a different piece. So if you lose something you really need, your queen or a rook or something, you can get it back – _if_ you have a brave enough pawn."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Chess metaphors, Callen?"

"Blame Hetty, not me." He shrugged. "But just because it's cliché doesn't mean it doesn't work."

"So, what?" Nate made a helpless gesture. "I'm a pawn, but I'm useful because I can be traded out for something better?"

"For a psychologist, you're not very bright," Callen accused, and Nate laughed. "You're useful because you can do something none of us can. If we're out of the game, you bring us back. You don't fight the same way we do, but pawns can back a king into a position from which the rest of the pawn's team can finish the job."

He paused and glanced down at the bullpen.

"And, I gotta tell you, the board looks pretty empty without that pawn fighting beside the others."

Nate rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

"So, Hetty's obviously the queen," he said, "and you and Sam are rooks – second-most powerful pieces on the board. Kensi and Deeks are probably the bishops, working like you two, but in a different direction. And Nell and Eric are the knights, erratic but devastating when used correctly." He shrugged. "And I'm the pawn."

"Exactly. Glad to see you catching on."

"So what's our king? It's not Granger."

Callen scowled. "No way." Then he considered. "I guess the king could be NCIS. Or maybe the US. Depends on how bad the day is. Because if we fail, that's what we lose." He met Nate's eyes and held them. "And, trust me. Our king would be a hell of a lot safer if you were on the front line with us in every fight."

Nate swallowed, then nodded. "If you really need me, I'll be there. Somebody's gotta bring you all back from the edge."

G smiled at him. "Feel better?"

"Actually, yeah." He shot Callen a measuring look. "You'd have been a pretty good psychologist yourself, you know."

"Yeah, no. That's not happening. You can't shoot your patients when you're a doctor. Right?"

Nate smirked. "I can't say I've tried that technique yet."

"Let me know if you do." Callen rolled back to his feet and turned to go. "And Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Good work on this one."

"Thanks, Callen. Coming from you, that means a lot."

"Like Hetty said, you earned it." He threw him a smile. "Now I better go check on my partner before Hetty tears him down to nothing."

And he knew as he returned to the ground floor that Nate was going to be okay.

Hetty was still talking with Sam when he got there, and Sam was crouched low in his chair like a schoolboy caught doing something naughty. Callen grinned at him and at the help-me look Sam gave him.

"Ah, Mister Callen." Hetty sat back in her chair, her eyes snapping with fierce amusement at Sam's discomfort. "How's our Doctor Getz?"

"Nate's good," he said. "But he needs to brush up on his chess."

"Thank you for explaining it to him."

Because of course that was what she had sent him to do. Not just to make sure he was okay or tell him he'd done well – but to make Nate understand the part he played in their game. To ensure that Nate realized they were better with him there, and that his actions made a difference. Nate's career was taking him in new directions, putting him to use in situations across the world, and part of the reason he could do it was because he had his feet planted firmly in the NCIS LA office.

And he would always have a place with them, no matter what.

"Now." And Hetty sent Callen a lightning-sharp look. "I haven't quite finished with Mister Hanna yet, so if you would excuse us…"

"G, don't go," Sam pleaded.

G looked between his partner and Hetty, and instantly knew which of them was more dangerous to cross.

"Sorry, buddy. I'll say nice things at your funeral if you don't make it."

"G!" Sam sat up in the chair and reached for him like a lifeline. "You can't just…"

"He _can_ and he _will_ , Mister Hanna."

Callen could count on both hands the number of times he'd seen Hetty taking such unrepentant glee from tormenting anyone, and never Sam amongst her victims, and he knew he would be her next target if he deprived her of it now.

"G!"

"See you tomorrow!" Callen yelled over his shoulder as he practically bolted from the office.

And he couldn't _hear_ Hetty cackling in triumph, but he knew she did anyway.


	13. S4E13: The Chosen One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness on this one. This is the week before my annual descent into hilarity and nerd-dom. Which is to say, next week is the SF/F convention I work 24/7 for 4 days: CONvergence in Minnesota. If any of you happen to be attendees, let me know!
> 
> For that reason, there will be no update for the next 2 weeks – I simply won't have the brainpower. I'll be back on the 15th of July.
> 
> In the meantime – enjoy!

"You were right."

He didn't even turn around as he said it, knowing Hetty was standing there in the darkened hallway outside his kitchen. Instead, he moved to the stove to start the tea.

"Yes, I was," she said, stepping into the light and moving to sit at his table. "It was a dangerous operation, totally unpredictable, and could have ended in the worst way possible."

She sighed.

"But you were also right, Mister Callen."

He tipped his head. "How so?"

"Although there were no others involved in the attack, if we had gone in without full knowledge of the situation, it is very probable we would have triggered the explosion anyway." She lowered her gaze. "I wouldn't authorize it again, but I cannot regret the choice we made. You saved a number of innocent lives."

"Lost a few along the way, though." And he said it flippantly, but there was an ache in his words somewhere.

"True." She shook her head. "I am ever more grateful for Mister Hanna, however."

"Me, too." And he really meant it.

"I noticed in your reports that there was no mention made of clearing Miss Blye and Mister Deeks from the scene before you allowed Mister Hanna to defuse the bombs," she said, and now her gaze was piercingly sharp. "It isn't the first time, but still. I am surprised."

Callen raised an eyebrow.

"Standard bomb tech procedure is to limit the number of people down-range," she said. "Mistakes can happen, even to the best of us. Most bomb units would not permit extra personnel to be placed at risk."

He swallowed.

"They are your team, Mister Callen. And I know your trust in them, and theirs in you, is unbreakable." She pinned him with her eyes. "But you must consider if that trust is worth risking more lives than necessary."

"Even if I had ordered them to leave, I don't know that they would have gone," he said. And he hated it because he was sure that they would have argued with him and would have stayed to the end.

"I know." She nodded. "But it is worth reminding you sometimes that you do have a responsibility to keep them out of harm's way when possible. That's what it is to be the leader. Your life for theirs."

He looked away from her gaze, staring at the slowly heating teapot instead.

"When I got made and they tied me down with that vest, I thought for sure I was done. There haven't been many tighter spots that I've gotten out of. A few," and he made an attempt at a smirk, "but not many."

"And lately, even more rarely for you to be alone."

"Yeah. You weren't even in my ear this time. It was just me and the bombs." He felt his hands close into fists. "And I realized...I was so glad that it was me and not Sam who went in on this one. That they were looking for someone who was white. Because if someone had to go down, I didn't want it to be him. I didn't want it to be any of them."

"And I," she said very, very softly, "didn't want it to be _you_ , either."

He looked up and saw that she was deliberately facing away from him.

"Damn your quick study with languages." Her voice was steady, but her own hands were clenched on the edge of the table. "If you had been even a bit less competent, I would have scrubbed the whole thing."

"Hetty." He took a step towards her. "I'm sorry."

"No, Mister Callen. I'm sorry." And she turned back and looked as she did every day in the office, composed and serene. "It is our job to do these things, no matter how dangerous. And we both know the price that may be demanded of us. Your courage saved many lives today."

And he knew that the discussion was over, that she didn't want to continue it further. So he just nodded and turned back to the counter so he could get out the mugs.

"But there is just one thing, Mister Callen."

He paused as he was reaching for the tin of tea. "What?"

"Next time, you _put in the damn earbud_ so we can communicate with you. Or I will feed you to those fish myself, Mister Callen, and that's a promise."

The rough growl in her voice meant everything was going to be okay, and for the first time since he'd put on the pair of glasses, he was able to really relax.

"Understood."


	14. S4E14: Kill House

Callen found the note tucked into the seat of his chair the next day. He wasn't surprised to find it – Hetty left him notes all the time. Mostly about his paperwork, or lack thereof. But no. He was surprised that the handwriting was Nell's.

"I don't know how to say this exactly, but I wanted to tell you thanks. And not just for what happened in the kill house. You've been helping me since I got here. When they grabbed me, I was scared, but I knew that you would come after me because that's what you do. And when you and your team were up on that balcony looking down at us, I knew you would understand what I was going to do.

"What you and Sam told me about that headhunter, it really meant a lot to me. I haven't got the same training you have, but I've learned a lot from you, and from Hetty. When I reached for the mag, I felt just like you said that headhunter did. It wasn't just my hand – it was yours and Sam's and Kensi's and Deeks's and Hetty's. I could trust the training because you were all there with me, not up on the balcony, but right beside me.

"I haven't lived the same way the rest of you have, so I'm not learning strength in a do-or-die, trial-by-fire kind of way. I'm leaning it by watching yours. I have a lot more to learn, but I got through the kill house because you showed me how.

"So thank you for being the hand to teach me how to do this. And thanks for trusting me to decide what to do about Granger, too. I know if I hadn't forgiven him, you were ready to call him out. But I think this was the better way.

"Anyway, I'm probably just rambling and maybe you don't even want me to do this at all. But I needed to say thanks, and I knew I couldn't do it in person.

"It's an honor being part of your team, Callen. No matter what, I'll always be someone you can call on for help. It's the very least I can do.

"Nell."

G read it twice, then carefully folded it up.

He pulled out a piece of paper of his own and scrawled a quick message:

"You're welcome. And you can call me any time, day or night, anywhere in the world, and I'll come. You're right – you are part of my team. Don't ever forget it."

It took a matter of seconds for him to pick the lock on Nell's locker and shove it inside.

Then he returned to her letter. There was a part of him that wanted to destroy it, that didn't want such honesty to be readable by anyone else – and there was a cynical, experienced part of himself that always worried about leaving traces for enemies to follow back to the people he cared about. But there was also a part of him that wanted to keep it, wanted to hold onto those words which were so innocent and so heartfelt.

So he decided on a third course of action.

He wrote a note on the folded side of the paper and put it in Hetty's desk.

When Hetty found it shortly thereafter, she was moved both by Nell's words and by Callen's own:

"I think you should have this. You have always been the strength at my side, and the hand steadying my weapon, too. You gave me this training that saved Nell. I don't say it enough. Thank you."

Hetty folded the paper up carefully and tucked it into a corner of her desk where it would be safe.

"You're welcome, Mister Callen," she said softly to the empty air.

But she knew he heard it even from across the room.


	15. S4E15: History

Callen didn't miss how everyone made the assumption that he would be there with them in that distant, impossible future where they all survived to retire and had lives that didn't involve dodging bullets. Sam assumed Callen would still be Uncle Callen, or Great Uncle Callen by then, hanging out with grandchildren. Deeks had some idea he would want anything to do with his idiot dog, fourth generation. Nell was already recruiting him to the 'Blye-Jones' administration, and, honestly, he thought that might be the best thing ever to happen to the country; between the two of them, Kensi and Nell could run the whole world and people like him wouldn't be necessary anymore.

But that was still making a huge assumption.

That he would survive this life long enough to have another one.

The lot of them had been drawn back into the larger party for Morgan – G recognized him only because he was the one wearing the crown; he was the guy with the ears and that one shirt, and even with the crown he was practically invisible in the crowd – and he found himself scanning the room.

Of the analysts, the office workers, the IT and HR and other normal functions, there were people of all ages. But Callen had only ever known a handful of true agents to reach fifty or beyond.

Most of his peers ended up in the ground without ever living the life of a civilian.

And yet Sam and Kensi and Deeks all assumed there would be more. That they would beat the odds, that they would have a future. Or, now that he considered it, maybe it wasn't about beating the odds. Maybe it wasn't a blind assumption.

Because he would take a hundred bullets himself before he'd let them go down.

Maybe they could believe in the future because they were a team. Because the team was stronger than one person acting alone. Because the team could succeed where an agent would fail. Because the team could watch each other's backs until their last day on the job.

And maybe that extended to him as well.

Callen had never had a past – he was an enigma, shuffled from home to home, foster family to foster family, never knowing his name or his identity or his family or his history. He'd never been part of a culture, never known his own people, never felt the roots of history grounding and centering him.

The life of a spy made sense when you had nothing to lose.

But now, watching Sam and Deeks go at it with Kensi and Nell, and Eric alternately helping and hindering them both, he wondered if maybe he could compensate for his lack of a past by building a future instead.

And if he did that, then he knew exactly where he wanted to be and who he wanted to have there beside him.

It gave him more reason than ever to make sure they all made it through alive. More reason to protect his team, to fight for them, to keep them safe to the end. So they could have that end together.

Then he glanced across the room at Hetty.

Though he had lived his first fifteen years without her, he couldn't imagine a world in which she wasn't constantly there at his side, guiding him, teaching him, supporting him. Everything he was becoming had its roots in what she had given him.

So maybe he had roots and a history after all.

She caught his eye and gave him a small smile. He could read it as if she were speaking.

_I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere any time soon._

He swallowed. _Don't go. It won't be the same without you. I won't be the same without you._

Her smile went a little sadder, a little more gentle. But instead she rapped upon the nearest surface and silence fell upon the crowd.

"Well, as we are all here celebrating Mister Morgan's transition to another life, I should like to say a few words. I promise to keep them short enough to satisfy even the most impatient of you who are waiting for the next round of drinks to be served."

The lump in Callen's throat abruptly dissolved and he had to fight not to laugh.

"The journey of life takes us all on many twists and turns. Mister Morgan, it has been a pleasure to share this part of your path with you." She paused for a brief applause. "The office shall not be quite the same without your presence, and yet."

And her eyes landed squarely on G for an instant.

"Nothing is ever truly gone from us. Something cannot be lost when it lives in the air we breathe, to say nothing of the organization of our filing system or the arrangement of those particular shelves. And I won't even mention the kitchen."

More laughter, and G's chest was tight.

"Mister Morgan, as you go forward, know that you carry each and every one of us with you. As we will carry you with us. All of us are forever changed for sharing this part of the journey with you, and there is no step we will take from now on which does not, in some way, keep you alongside us."

She raised her drink and everyone responded in kind.

"I wish you a happy, peaceful, and thoroughly organized retirement, Mister Morgan. Thank you for the mark you have left in our lives and in the lives of all the people we touch."

Callen raised his glass, but it was Hetty he saluted.


	16. S4E16: Lohkay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm back!
> 
> I have also decided to slow down posting from 3 or 4 chapters a week to two. This means we will have chapters into next year, but it takes a huge stress off my mind. I hope this works out – I double-checked a lot of the breaks and I think this will be fun even when it's also weird!
> 
> Everybody having a good July?
> 
> Enjoy!

The text arrived shortly after Hetty had settled into her house for the night.

"You made him pay for the scotch? That's cold."

She chuckled. Leave it to Mister Callen to be protective of his partner to the last. Instead of texting her reply, she called him.

He answered on the first ring. "First the Challenger, now scotch? You trying to bankrupt the man?"

"He misused federal resources," she said calmly. "I had to sanction him in some meaningful way or Owen would have done it himself."

"So...you were protecting Sam from Granger...by docking his pay?"

"That is one of the accepted forms of punishment in our line of work, yes."

She could hear him pacing on the bare floorboards of his house. It still irked her that he had forgone all furniture save for the table and chair in the kitchen, a chair by the fireplace, and a few tiny bits here and there. He even continued to sleep on the floor.

But at least he slept in his own house and not every random hotel and motel in the city, so that was an improvement.

"I don't know if you're brilliant or just cruel," he said at last.

"Occasionally, one must be both," she replied.

He sighed. "Do me a favor?"

"Yes, Mister Callen?"

"Take half of it out of mine. The scotch _and_ the Challenger."

She was pleased, but not surprised. She did know her agents, after all.

"Why, Mister Callen?"

Though she could guess at the answer, she also knew it was good for him to say it aloud.

"You asked me to keep an eye on my partner. And I did. But I shouldn't have let him go to the boathouse alone. It was my job to keep him safe and keep his head in the game."

"If you had been with him, you'd have been unable to help with the rescue," she said.

"If I'd been with him, he might not have needed to be rescued. We both know I might have seen something Sam missed because he was distracted."

"This whole situation isn't your fault, Mister Callen. Sam went down this road before you even arrived today."

"I know." And there was heaviness in it. "But still. He's my partner, and I'm his team leader. It's my responsibility. So, please. Make it fair."

She smiled. Every time she thought she had seen the full capacity of that boy's loyalty, he surprised her again.

"Very well, Mister Callen. I'll make the arrangements in the morning."

"Thanks, Hetty."

She could hear the pause in him before he spoke again.

"You know...that thing about how Yusef took Sam in and protected him when he was vulnerable, how he was honor-bound to treat him with respect and defend him?"

She had a feeling she could guess where he was going with this, too, but she simply said, "Yes?"

"Sam would do anything to repay Yusef for that. It made them more than just strangers or even acquaintances. It made them family."

"Sam is a very loving individual, Mister Callen, and he holds tightly to those to whom he has forged a connection."

"Yeah." She could almost feel the smile in his voice. "Thanks for being my Yusef – and a lot more than that."

She smiled at the warmth. How much more easily it came to him now than it had once upon a time.

"Good night, Mister Callen."

"Good night, Hetty."


	17. S4E17: Wanted

Within seconds of Sam leaving the building, Callen stopped lurking in the bullpen and made his way to Hetty's office. He didn't slow down even when he saw her cold anger, though he knew he probably should have made his exit when he had the chance.

"Your partner," she said, "is reaching the end of my patience."

Callen nodded. "Nothing about this was going to go well, though. Even if you hadn't kept him in lockup, Sam was always going to – "

She cut him off with a gesture.

"And that is the problem." She turned to walk back to her desk.

Callen fell in beside her and settled in his usual chair. But this wasn't a comfortable talk – she sat behind the desk with her spine straight and her eyes flashing. Callen's instinct was to deflect that hostility, to ease her out of it as he usually did, but this time he knew it would only get worse if he tried.

Hetty had reason to be angry, and she intended to stay angry for a while yet.

"You of all people, Mister Callen, understand why an agent _cannot_ let personal feelings interfere with a mission. _Especially_ one of this magnitude."

"Michelle is his wife," he said, defending Sam anyway.

"And there are _three nuclear bombs_ loose in this country!" She slammed a hand down on her desk. "I sympathize with Mister Hanna, I truly do, but even a man's wife cannot outweigh the safety of millions of people."

Callen flinched, but he still launched the only attack he had left. "You went to Prague for me."

"And think how it could have turned out," she replied. "If the Comescu family had had any sense, they would have sold me to the highest bidder the instant I was in their hands. And right now I would probably be spilling my guts to the greatest enemies of this nation." She shook her head. "Or they could have taken down you and your team as well and had us all."

"But you did it anyway. And I would do it again."

If anything, she grew angrier. "Do _not_ justify Sam's recent, reckless actions by bringing up my own poor choices – or yours. It will not serve you well."

G nodded. "He hasn't exactly had the best run of luck lately."

"We make our own luck," she shot back. "That circumstances have not been kind to Mister Hanna is no excuse for his behavior. Any other person in my position would be well within their rights to fire him for today's events. I'm surprised Assistant Director Granger hasn't already demanded it."

He was going to object, but fell back. "He hasn't?"

"No. I convinced him that Sam had not endangered the mission, that it was the CIA who failed so spectacularly in blending in and therefore blew the operation. But Owen is not going to be willing to endure many more outbursts like this."

He blinked. "That's why you wanted to keep him in jail. It wasn't just because you thought Sidorov might try to kill him. It was because you wouldn't be able to protect him from prosecution if he risked the mission to save Michelle."

She looked at him as if he were a slow, stupid squirrel. "Obviously."

G sat back. "You were right. You didn't trust that Sam would be able to stay on the sidelines, and he couldn't. It worked out...but it might not have."

"And Sam's career would be over, Michelle would still be compromised, Sidorov would still have the nuclear devices, and we would be in no position to do anything about any of it." She shook her head, some of the furious tension finally leaching out of her shoulders. "As it is, the only thing we have saved is Sam's career. The rest was ruined as soon as those agents got made."

"So, not only was it all for nothing, but we actually lost ground." Callen looked up at her. "But you can't know that it wouldn't have happened anyway with Sam there the whole time."

"No, but he _was_ there. Which makes everything worse – and far more complicated."

Hetty reached up and rubbed at her forehead just above her glasses, a gesture Callen saw only when she was supremely frustrated.

"We'll make it right," he said. "We'll get Sidorov and the nukes."

"Yes, we will, Mister Callen." She lowered her hand and he saw an old desolation in her eyes for a fleeting instant. The same he had seen when they first learned about the nuclear bombs, the weight of a lifetime keeping those nightmares at bay. "We will because we have no other choice."

"I...I'll do what I can about Sam," he said. "I don't know how much it will help, but I'll try."

"No more mistakes, Mister Callen. We simply can't afford them any longer."

She rose and gathered her things, beginning to head for the door.

Callen stood up and called after her. "For what it's worth, I still can't believe that trying to save you was a bad choice. If you really regret going to Prague...I guess I can't say much about it. But I don't regret coming after you. I don't consider it to be a mistake."

"Oh, Mister Callen." She sighed. "In our business, a person learns to feel one thing with the heart and know something else entirely with the brain. My brain, my training, my experience – they all hold up the situation in Romania as a colossal failure of judgement on my part, and a potentially disastrous one at that. But my heart is another matter."

"So is Sam's," he dared.

"I know. If he were acting for any other reason, he would be in danger of losing my trust instead of only my patience." She waved a hand. "It's going to be a hard road for us all, Mister Callen. I'm counting on you to guide your partner before he ends up dead in a ditch along the way. Or drives us all off a cliff in a nuclear fireball."

He could tell she really meant it.

"Sam's been there for me so many times. I'll have his back all the way down."

"I know you will," she said. "But the trouble is – can you do what is right as an agent even if it means doing what is wrong for your partner?"

And Callen found he couldn't answer her either way.

"That's what I am afraid of."


	18. S4E18: Red, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Red 2-parter is a bit of a weird one. I know it was meant to be a launching point for the new series (that didn't materialize, unfortunately), but it really had a lot of good ideas on its own as well. It bothers me, though, because it's obvious when you watch it that there were Things In Place that never made it into the light of day. If or when you rewatch these two episodes, keep an eye on Hetty – she is CLEARLY communicating more than meets the eye.
> 
> Oh well. I tried to close the loop as best I could.
> 
> Enjoy!

Callen was awake on the narrow bunk, periodically wondering when, not if, Sam's leg would end up dangling a few inches from his face. Sam was a sound sleeper, and short of actually rolling off the thing, one foot sliding off wouldn't wake the guy. Callen felt a little bit regretful that it was Sam up there and not himself, but ultimately, Granger was more willing to endure Sam's ire than Callen's.

And neither of them outranked Granger enough to put _him_ up there.

Fortunately, at least Sam didn't snore.

Unfortunately, Granger did.

And Callen couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't why he was awake – he didn't sleep much as a general rule and even less in unfamiliar territory – but it certainly didn't help.

Having exhausted considering the angles of the case, he instead turned his mind to Hetty.

Their last communication between Ops and the Red Team had contained layers, and even he knew he didn't get all of them. But he could piece together a few. For example, the way Hetty interacted with Paris suggested their previous connection was more than just in passing at the agency. Callen would have bet his paycheck that Hetty had run Paris as an agent or an asset at some point.

That told him something else. Hetty wanted him to get along with Paris, and not just in the usual interdepartmental cooperation. She wanted them to get along as people.

But why _that_ mattered, he couldn't say.

Although, it wouldn't be the first time that Hetty attempted to pair Callen with someone who met most of the criteria for a person he might genuinely like. She'd done it with Sam, though in an entirely different capacity. And there had been other agents with whom he had worked closely that were just as driven, capable, and quirky enough to suit him.

He'd once, teasingly, asked if Hetty was trying to set him up with a girl.

Her frank answer in the affirmative had surprised him then.

Now he knew differently. Now he knew that Hetty had gone out of her way to try to find him a family – first in the foster system, later in various agencies. Now he knew that Hetty had been trying to help him find what he had lost when she couldn't save his mother, and apparently that extended to romance as well.

Personally, G thought it wasn't exactly fair that Hetty was trying to set him up when she herself had no one. But then, Hetty wasn't exactly the romantic type.

On the other hand, neither was Callen as far as he knew.

But there was something else, something in the way Hetty had given him a sharp glance before signing off. Something in her expression that no one else had understood – though G knew Granger had seen it, even if he hadn't comprehended it.

There was a silent warning there. An uncertainty. A variable yet in play.

_Things are more complicated than they seem._

He was half-tempted to text her now to ask her about it, but opted against it. If for no other reason, finding out what she had in mind would be interesting in itself. He didn't really know what he thought about Paris yet, other than that she was an effective agent and leader, but if Hetty saw something, it was at least worth looking into.

And if Paris did have a secret, one which left Hetty wary, he would find it out.

There was a sound from above and Sam's leg came swinging down, hanging just over G's face.

Callen could have hugged his partner for being one of the most meticulous men he'd never known – Sam's socked foot didn't smell bad. It was the only reason G would leave it there unpoked or prodded.

G closed his eyes and mentally decided to get up extra early. He didn't want to be under here if and when Sam rolled out of bed, and he definitely didn't want to get kicked on the way down.

Maybe he could catch Paris alone in the morning. She struck him as an early riser sort of person. And people tended to be a little more open and a little easier to read first thing, especially if the rest of the team was in bed.

_Complicated, huh Hetty? I'm okay with complicated. Let's see what you're scheming this time._


	19. S4E19: Red, Part 2

Sam had turned the music on, and he was either working on his beat-boxing or else had taken up some kind of strange vocal exercises, and Callen decided it was just not worth asking. Instead, he pulled out his phone.

"It won't work," he sent to Hetty. "She's in love with Roy."

Her response came a few minutes later. "Worth a try?"

He let out a breath and considered the arid landscape for a few moments, composing an answer.

"In general? I don't know. Not relevant with her, anyway."

Now her answer was immediate. "You're very similar people. And she's someone you could trust."

Callen mentally translated that as "she's someone I could trust with you" and that raised Paris another notch in his estimation. Hetty didn't let just anybody that close to her people. Everyone was always hand-picked for suitability.

He still wasn't entirely clear how she always knew, though. Maybe it was just one of those superpowers unique to Henrietta Lange.

"I don't really need to be set up," he finally sent. "I'm good with what I have."

She didn't text back for several minutes.

Callen eventually texted again. "Did you actually want me on the Red Team?"

Now her answer was much quicker.

"Not exactly. Unless you wanted to go. They could certainly use your skills."

"Maybe. But Sam's not leaving his family, and I'm not leaving him."

Her next response surprised him. "Is that really why?"

He frowned. "Is that really why what?"

"Is it that Sam wouldn't leave his family, or you don't want to leave yours?"

Ah. He tipped his head back against the seat for a moment and glanced across at his partner. Sam was still doing that rhythmic spitting thing, and Callen was definitely going to taunt him about it when he finished with Hetty. But he couldn't really go back and forth with them both simultaneously, so he refocused on Hetty.

"Both," he typed back. "Sam's my partner and I'm not giving that up. Not unless or until he wants out. And I'm not asking him to leave his family any more than I want to leave Kensi and Deeks on their own with you and Eric and Nell."

"I see."

"You were right about one thing, though. Paris and I are a lot alike. And I think we're both where we belong now."

"And what do you think of her and Roy?"

Callen raised his eyebrows. "I think they've got to figure it out. But she has her team and her partner. And I have mine."

"So you do, Mister Callen. See you in a few hours, then."

He could feel her smile and knew it wasn't smug or disappointed. He wondered suddenly if that was the entire point to all this. Not just to possibly set him up with someone, but to give him an option which would make him assess his current situation. If he had wanted out, wanted a change of scenery or people, the Red Team would have been a good fit.

Instead, it made him even more certain that he knew where he belonged.

Hetty never really did have just one move in play, after all.

He shook his head.

"Something up?" Sam asked.

"No." He put the phone away. "Just Hetty being Hetty."

"Is she ever anyone else?" he asked.

G grinned. "Well, at least she isn't spraying spit all over the inside of the windshield."

"Spraying spit? Seriously?" Sam glared at him for a second before returning his eyes to the road. "I'm working on my beatboxing."

"I've seen camels with more rhythm."

"I'll show you a camel, you uneducated, unmusical, couldn't-dance-if-his-life-depended-on-it…"

And G smiled all the way through Sam's rant. Yes, he was exactly where he belonged.


	20. S4E20: Purity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder, this is the episode when some domestic terrorists try to use cyanide to poison the water supply of LA, and in the middle Callen gets locked in a warehouse exposed to the poison. In the end, they save the day, of course, but Callen has to shoot the group's leader, and very nearly the man's young son who has been coerced/brainwashed into continuing his father's work. It's a tense as hell episode, and therefore rife for Hetty to have Feelings.
> 
> Enjoy!

Hetty answered almost before the first ring had finished. "Mister Callen?"

"Hetty, I need a favor?"

"Anything."

It was a slip, but she felt it was a fair one. Callen had been poisoned today, and had barely been able to administer the antidote to himself. He had spent two hours in a secure room at the hospital being monitored for cyanide poisoning, almost unable to move. Sam had been with Kensi and Deeks, processing the scene and starting to work on possible targets with Eric and Nell back in the office.

Hetty had been with her agent and her heart could have broken at the way his hands shook.

And yet, as soon as he was cleared of all but the last residual side effects, Callen had hauled himself out of bed, nearly falling, eyes blazing. Because his team was going up against the men who had done this to him, and he would lead them or die trying.

She could have ordered him to stand down – the shaking hands could legitimately have endangered the mission. But she knew her agent well enough to know that G Callen would have gone on this one with a bullet in the chest. His team needed him.

Especially because she already knew he was going to designate Sam to cover the exit and coordinate with rescue services.

Apparently he was taking protecting Sam – and by extension, Sam's family – quite seriously on this one.

"You will call me to confirm if you are suffering any kind of reaction when it is over," she had said when she finally gave him the green light. "I will be monitoring you from Ops, but I want to hear from you directly."

"I will."

So, Hetty could forgive herself for her lapse when he finally did call.

"Alex Fryman is here," he said, and she could hear the tension in his voice. "His dad put him up to pulling the trigger on the cyanide."

"Is he hurt?"

She prayed that Callen hadn't had to shoot the boy. He would have – she had no doubts about that. Her other agents might have hesitated or outright refused, but G Callen would have taken that boy's life without a moment's doubt if it was necessary. It would tear him apart to do so, but he would have done it.

"No." But the shadow in his voice told her how close it had been.

It also told her what he needed.

"I will arrange for social services and foster care for him," she said. "We'll need to keep him close because he is a witness, but there's no reason for him to end up in juvenile detention at this time."

She could hear his sigh of relief. "Thanks, Hetty. And...make it a good one? He's been through a lot."

She smiled. That boy would be looking out for the outcasts and the orphans of the world until his dying day.

"I have many contacts still, Mister Callen. Mister Fryman will be well cared for."

She didn't say how the house she would choose had not been around in Callen's time, how she would have put him there in an instant if it had been an option. He already knew that. He already knew that she had tried to give him a home so many times, but none of them really worked – until her own.

"Good. I'm also going to need the morning off."

"You have an appointment at the hospital," she reminded him.

"After that. I want to check in on Alex. Make sure he's really okay."

She smiled. "I think that would be very appropriate."

"Do you still have my old glove?"

It took her a moment to place the reference – baseball. Of course. "Yes, I think so."

"I'll need that, too."

"Very well, Mister Callen. I think that can be arranged. However."

"Something wrong, Hetty?"

"In return, I require something from you." She kept her tone light so he knew she wasn't really holding the safety and comfort of Alex Fryman over him. "First, I am not digging around in that particular attic for your long-lost baseball equipment, so you will have to acquire it yourself."

"Fair enough." She could hear the smile in his voice – of course he knew what was coming next.

"And you will agree to remain where I can supervise you overnight, in case of any further complications from your cyanide poisoning."

He huffed. "Getting protective on me, Hetty?"

Well, although it was true, she certainly wasn't going to admit to it. But they both knew that if their positions had been reversed, he wouldn't have strayed from her side for days. Where Callen was overtly protective of her, she tended towards a more covert watchfulness. As she had watched him from the beginning.

And her boy had been poisoned today, and she had been forced to sit with him while his fingers spasmed and he shuddered uncontrollably. He was all right, and he was strong enough to face the ill effects with calm acceptance, but taking care of him after such an ordeal was her prerogative and she would not relinquish it.

"Do we have an agreement?"

"Text me the foster home address for Alex. I'll be over as soon as I drop him off. And Hetty?"

"Yes, Mister Callen."

"Thank you." She knew he intended to imply that the thanks were for her assurances on behalf of Alex Fryman, but she heard the rest of what he meant. He had gone into the field with his team, but he was still recovering.

And while his habit when vulnerable was to stay away, hers was increasingly to pull him near.

"You're most welcome."


	21. S4E21: Resurrection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode doesn't have much to do with the oneshot I wrote – I just borrowed the "we're going to a basketball game" bit from the end and took it from there. Mainly because the episode that comes right after this one is "Ravens & Swans," which is one of the longest of these oneshots across the first 7 seasons. So a little one made sense against what's coming next week.
> 
> Enjoy!

The next morning, Hetty found an orange foam finger on her desk with a note attached.

"I know you're more of a Lakers fan, but if Kensi and Deeks hadn't agreed to babysit, I'd have invited you anyway. Here's your souvenir."

Hetty rolled her eyes. Then she picked up the distasteful, tacky thing, and carried it to the firing range.

Somehow, she was not surprised to find Callen there, practicing shooting with his off-hand. It wasn't something he did terribly often, but especially after the cyanide poisoning some weeks earlier, he had been working a little harder to ensure he could shoot in almost any circumstances.

He paused as she came in and smirked. "Morning, Hetty."

"Mister Callen." She brandished the foam finger. "Is this your idea of a gift?"

"I just saw it and I thought you'd like it." His smirk widened. "Just think. With that thing, you could wave one finger from your office and everybody could see it!"

She knew at once that he had given her the thing in a fit of impishness, the exact sort of which he mostly reserved for his team. But when it was turned in her direction, it tended to involve something utterly nonsensical – such as a novelty item from her own team's rival.

She could also tell from his expression that he fully expected her to deny it vehemently, and that such was the fun of it.

She could have disappointed him, of course, thanked him graciously, and given it back to him for Christmas in a year.

But today it was more fun to play along.

"I'm about to wave a finger in your general direction, Mister Callen, and you won't appreciate it one bit."

He laughed.

Hetty marched to an open slot on the range and set the finger down just long enough to acquire her own ear and eye protection. Then she called the target to her position and turned back to him.

"If you would please do the honors."

"Really?" He set down his gun and crossed to her. "This is the thanks I get for a present I bought you with my own money on my own time?"

"I am simply treating this item in the same spirit in which it was given," she replied.

"Oh. Well, then, in that case." And he clipped the finger by the bottom to the target and sent it back to the end of the range.

She pinned him with a glare. "When it comes to the Hallway Series, Mister Callen, there can only be one victor."

And she pulled her gun and proceeded to methodically shoot every bullet through the upside-down Clippers logo. When her clip was spent, she set the gun down and held out a hand.

"Now, that's just cold," Callen said. "Ruining a man's present with his own sidearm."

"Do not make me ask again."

He handed over his gun, chuckling, and she finished destroying the foam finger with his bullets instead.

"Now." She handed him back his now-empty gun and removed her ear and eye protection. "You will clean and reload both firearms, and remove that _thing_ from the range."

He glanced to where the once-proud foam finger was now shaped more like a distressed, used loofah.

"I think you pretty much removed it yourself."

"All to the good, then."


	22. S4E22: Raven and the Swans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode is one of those that is just so, so strong. We are introduced to Grace, another kid Hetty raised and taught, and we see one of the rare fights between Callen and Hetty – she even raises her voice, she's so angry. Callen learns that he was not the only kid she took in and trained, and they have a lot of work to do between them to resolve the many hard feelings that arose.
> 
> It is one of my favorite episodes because of what it did to them, and one of my favorite oneshots because it gave me a ton of room to incorporate this episode into the overall canon of the show. Hetty's explanations leave more questions than answers – so I gave her answers.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Thank you, Mister Callen. I'd like to think I have."

He swallowed, the smooth burn of the whiskey still present in the back of his throat.

"So...is that what I was? A Raven?"

"On paper, yes."

He was surprised. "On paper?"

"Understand that by the time you became a part of my household, I was at the end of the Mayberry project – no, that wasn't its name, but it will do for this purpose. I had been assigned as one of a few who would take in orphans and prepare them, if they were suitable, for our line of work. This was in the interim period between when I last saw your mother and when she contacted me for extraction. I believe you were about two years old when I took in my first child."

G sat back, watching her closely. He knew she didn't have to tell him all this, but she was doing it anyway – and he needed to hear it.

"You spent three months with Alina Rostoff's family, and it was enough to leave an impact on you for life. Imagine what I could do with six months and a concentrated agenda."

He blinked. "Those kids would have thought they won the lottery."

"And, in a way, they did," she said. "The ones who came to me were the best of the best, found by experts carefully placed in the child services workforce and vetted by random encounters and arranged situations. By the time they came to me, they had been primed for years for their future. But I still had final say."

She gave a small smile.

"The only reason I agreed to participate in the project at all was if I had the ultimate authority to drop a prospective child from the program at will. For the ten or so years I was a part of it, I pulled about a third of the children from the Mayberry program and sent them on to other things."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because that was what was best for them." She looked down at her glass. "Those children were mine, Mister Callen. I would take them from state care at a young age and bond with them before handing them over to a foster family of retired agents to raise them until they were old enough. Then, a normal 'training period' as it was called was six months of time alone with me, but there were exceptions. Sometimes a pair of siblings would come in at the same time and stay longer. Sometimes circumstances necessitated an overlap between them, or a longer initial period before my handoff to their long-term foster families. But the one constant was that, from the instant I claimed them from the system until I sent them onto Langley, they were _my_ children in every way."

He nodded – he'd always felt that himself for the years he had lived with her, too.

"And some of them, in spite of how they proved on the tests or how they performed under controlled circumstances, were not suited to this life. So I recommended they be dropped from consideration."

Callen understood what she wasn't quite saying. "They weren't supposed to know, were they? That this was what you were preparing them for."

"Theoretically, no. But, yes, I did tell them all before the end. They all had a right to decide their own fate – and those who chose not to continue were released on my orders."

G did a little mental math and frowned. "But if they were usually with you for only six months or even a year before they went to Langley…"

"They were already sixteen or seventeen when we began their more intensive training, yes." She nodded. "Like you, I was their last stop before embarking on their career path. But, unlike you, they all met me much earlier, and knew me as something of a fairy godmother – the woman who found them a family, visited them periodically, and sent them presents at Christmas."

"So why was I different?"

She gave him a measuring look. "You know the answer to that, Mister Callen."

"Because of my mom." His voice didn't quite crack, but it gave way a little.

Hetty poured another measure into both of their glasses.

"The Comescu family had killed Clara, and they were searching for you and your sister. When you popped up here in the system, it was decided that it was too dangerous to put you in the Mayberry project for fear it might expose the entire program if the Comesus came looking. The most I was permitted to do was to track your foster placements."

A weight suddenly fell into his stomach.

"That's….that's why I had so many homes," he realized. "You had to move me all the time. In case anybody got too close."

"Exactly," and there was sorrow in her eyes. "If not for the Comescu blood feud, you would have stayed with the Rostoff family until you were old enough to leave the system. But any time there was contact between your foster placement and known criminals with possible ties to Romania, you had to be pulled out immediately."

He sat back. "I always thought it was me."

"No, Mister Callen. It was never your fault. If anything, it was mine."

He looked up and shook his head. "No, Hetty. You were just trying to keep me safe."

"You and all the children in Mayberry," she agreed. "It was also necessary to ensure that you never came into contact with any of the children going through our training, nor any of the foster homes they ever used." She grimaced. "It meant that, at times, we were forced to scrape the bottom of the barrel for your placements because we couldn't afford to put you anywhere that might lead back to the others."

"So what changed?" he asked. "You picked me up after I crashed that car. Why then?"

"By that point, Gorbachev had come to power and the direction of the entire Soviet Union was changing. Also, the Mayberry project was coming to an end – human intelligence was beginning to wane in favor of electronic spying, and fewer agents were needed. I made the argument that it was time to pull you out of limbo and take advantage of your natural abilities, your exposure to multiple languages, and your legacy."

"I was the last?" he asked.

"Yes." She took a sip and closed her eyes. "Once you entered my home, I knew I would never take another child for the same reason I had to keep you distant from them at the time. I could not let the threat hanging over your head fall upon another innocent orphan."

"That's why I never saw any of them." He stared at her. "Hetty, did you cut off all your other children because of me?"

"No!" And she was truly affronted. " _Never_ , Mister Callen. Those children, many of them grown and acting as agents by then, were still mine. But I had to exercise more caution when I saw any of them. How many times did I travel for assignment when you were with me?"

He understood. "And probably met up with one of them every time."

"Precisely. Most of them never knew about the project as such, but they all suspected that I chose them for specific reasons and they could understand I had similar reasons for keeping them out of LA."

Callen nodded, but he was thinking something else entirely. "So...you had all these other kids before me. And you gave them all exactly what you gave me."

"Yes?" She raised an eyebrow.

"But...I'm the reason you came to work here. Because I got shot. And you were still protecting me from the Comescus."

She inclined her head.

He looked up at her and he felt stricken. "Does that mean...you haven't been there for the others because you were watching over me? That Sullivan died because you chose to protect me instead?"

"No, Mister Callen. I have been there for them all when they truly needed me," she said, her voice warm and sure. "You did require special attention on my part, because of your history. The others were all anonymous until they became agents. None of _them_ managed to inherit a blood feud, after all."

"But you're still here," he said, passing over her attempt at humor. "You're still at this NCIS, not back at the CIA or someone else's unit. You're running my team, not Grace's."

"Yes."

"Why?" He was afraid of the answer, but he was more afraid not to ask.

"Turn that question around," she said. "Don't ask why I am running your team here in LA. Ask instead why I _put_ you on the team in LA in the first place."

He stopped and considered. "Because...because this is where you needed me?"

"Indeed." She nodded. "Other than New York and Washington, this city is ground zero for counterterrorism and espionage in this country, Mister Callen. And while New York and Washington DC have their own problems, neither of them is quite so in danger of erupting as LA."

"Because of the cartels," he said.

" _And_ the Chinese, _and_ the Russians, _and_ the North Koreans, _and_ the jihadists," she said. "In many ways, LA is the most dangerous city in this country, and the one most in need of our protection – and you are one of the finest agents I have ever known. _That_ , Mister Callen, is why you were stationed here."

"You came in because I got shot," he said, "and you stayed…"

"Because it was necessary." She smiled. "It was not favoritism on my part, Mister Callen. It was simply an allocation of resources according to situational need."

"Okay." He could live with that. He was okay with that. "Then I just have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Why did you go to Romania alone, when you had twenty or however-many of us who would have gone with you? And how come none of them came after you like I did?"

"Because," she said, and her eyes were bright, "they are still _my_ children. Even now. And I would lay down my life for any one of them. I would _not_ , however, allow them to follow me into such danger. Simply put, Mister Callen, the only ones who knew of it at all were yourself and Lauren Hunter."

"And you ordered her to stay behind and protect me."

"Precisely."

"Right. Well, next time you're in trouble," he said, smirking, "I'm calling in the Hetty Lange Brigade."

"You will do _no such thing_." And her eyes went cold and sharp. Callen half-expected her to yell at him again, so quickly did she turn to fury. "I want your _word_ , Mister Callen. You will _never_ seek out the others, no matter _what_ danger I am in."

He was taken aback. "But why?"

"Because you are all my children. And some of the others are in extremely dangerous positions to begin with, working sensitive cases where the risk of exposure would be deadly. I may not be able to prevent you from your foolish protectiveness, but I will _absolutely_ do whatever it takes to protect the rest of them from theirs."

She glared at him.

"Promise me right now, Mister Callen, or I will request reassignment by morning."

"Hetty, no." He actually stood up. "Don't do that. I just...I thought…"

"I know what you thought," she said, not giving an inch. "But I am asking you this as I have rarely asked anything of you before – you must _never_ call my children into danger on my behalf. I want your solemn vow, Mister Callen, or we are finished here."

All at once, he understood so much more about her than he ever had before. Understood how much she loved him, and loved everyone who had come before him. Understood how much she had done to protect him, and also to protect the others from him and from each other. Understood that Hetty wasn't just the chink in his armor, but the chink in the armors of maybe dozens of other operatives.

Understood that the fall of Hetty Lange would have consequences he couldn't even anticipate across multiple agencies, multiple investigations, maybe even to national security overall.

And he understood that Hetty Lange would rather die right now, tonight, than ever let herself be used against her children or her country. She would even abandon him forever rather than let him or anyone else use her children's loyalty.

"I'll promise you, but on one condition," he said, holding out his hand.

Hetty was still angry, but she nodded. "Go on."

"I won't...I won't go looking for them. I won't try to find out who they all are. And I won't call them in. Ever. No matter what happens to you." That part made his stomach churn, but he persevered. "But, in return, you have to let me help you protect them. The next time Grace or another one of them is in trouble, even if you don't tell the others...let me help you watch out for them."

She tipped her head. "Why?"

"Because...they're family, too. They're _my_ family. Because of you. And I don't ever want another Sullivan or Hunter. From now on, let me help you protect my...cousins."

And she smiled, and he could have sworn there were tears in her eyes.

Hetty took his hand and clasped it between both of her own. "Agreed, Mister Callen. And thank you."

He sat back down and raised his glass to her. "To family. The only thing that matters."

She held her glass to his. "To family, Mister Callen. Now and forever."


	23. S4E23: Parley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an episode with Deeks undercover, reviving an old alias and spending a lot of intimate time with a girl with her eye on him. Kensi struggles to handle all her feelings. Their communication really is awful at this point. Callen noticed.
> 
> Enjoy!

Just as Hetty shut her laptop, her phone pinged with a text.

"They're really bad at this."

She smiled. She wasn't surprised that Callen had spotted what was so readily apparent.

"They are still learning," she sent back.

"Do you think it will become a problem?"

"No. Do you?"

His response took a few moments before it arrived.

"No. But they better resolve it one way or another. Soon."

"Why so impatient?" she sent.

"If they don't figure it out, Sam's going to lock them in the armory."

She laughed. "I would not recommend that tactic."

"It works, though. Apparently it worked for Sam."

Hetty wondered who would have the audacity to lock Sam and Michelle in a room together and assume they would come out with anything but a desire to take it out of their flesh.

Callen texted again.

"But it was Sam who did it, so…"

_Ah, of course_. "I would rather my armory not be used to such a purpose," she sent.

"We'd make them clean it afterwards."

_Oh, that ridiculous boy_. "I'm glad you're not bothered by it," she sent.

"Nope. Everybody deserves to find what they're looking for."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes. Indeed they do."


	24. S4E24: Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay, and especially before this awful 2-parter. There's been a lot of stuff in my life right now as we're possibly preparing to say goodbye to someone who has been the cornerstone of my family for far longer than I've been alive. If I end up missing weeks in the future, that will be why. Until then, though, I'll try to get back to normal.
> 
> Here goes the end of season 4 and the start of the wild ride that is season 5.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Mister Callen, control your emotions."

The words echoed in his head every second. Hetty's voice circled around and around, laying a blanket over everything else. Janvier had sold Sam and Deeks to Sidorov, and Sidorov could be doing _anything_ to them – and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

It took every bit of strength he had ever possessed not to kill Janvier and hunt down Sidorov and get his team back.

But that wasn't his job.

And bless or damn Hetty forever, she had very much taught him how to do this.

"Control your emotions" was something she had drilled into him from the instant he had begun his study of tradecraft. Hetty had once told him that the finest agents were not those with no emotions at all – they were the agents with the deepest emotions and the finest ability to use them as the situation demanded.

Which sometimes meant _not_ using them.

If Callen let himself think for even an instant, he was _flooded_ with rage and dread and fear and guilt. Sam and Deeks were blown. They could be being beaten. Tortured.

They could be _dead_.

And it was because of him. Because of the game between himself and Janvier.

Sam and Deeks.

It was _suffocating_.

But he couldn't let it drown him. He couldn't.

The stakes for Sam and Deeks could not have been higher, but the stakes for the United States were higher still. There were two nuclear bombs in play, and they _could not_ be sold to Iran. They _could not_ be lost again. Or what happened to Sam and Deeks would be _absolutely nothing_ to what could happen to millions of civilians.

And Callen couldn't allow himself to fail. At any cost.

Even the cost of his team.

Hetty was still trusting him. "Control your emotions." She hadn't told him to stop. She hadn't told him to stand down. She hadn't even given him an order.

She reminded him who he was, and what his job required.

Even though Sam and Deeks were the only thing that mattered to _him_ , they couldn't be allowed to matter _at all_ against the mission.

G Callen wasn't a partner and friend and teammate, not now. He _must_ be Agent Callen.

And Agent Callen was responsible for safeguarding the country.

Even if it meant Sam and Deeks were already dead.

"Control your emotions" echoed in his ears again.

He took a deep breath and shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was controlled. He was Agent Callen. And he would protect the people and the country and he would stop Iran from getting the nukes and he would take down Sidorov and Janvier by any means necessary, no matter what it cost him.

Agent Callen would not fail.

But somewhere deep inside, G was still drowning.


End file.
